My Pen
by GingerRoseProductions
Summary: Dennis Rafkin's tedious life as a mail boy for a corporate headquarders takes a tumble with a certain red headed someone. Will he fall harder than he originally thought? A story of Dennis' life before the events in the big glass house.
1. Craving a Coldcut

_Authors Note: So, this is the first collaborative piece by GingerRoseProductions. The idea came to us one night, while we were making pizza and watching The Village. "You know who would be perfect together?" "Dennis and Ivy!" being of course that Ivy lived in Philly and wasn't blind. We believe that it will be a romantic comedy, with a not so pleasant ending. Poor Dennis, can't he just get a happy ending once in awhie? Consider this as Dennis Rafkin's back story, as told by two mildly deranged dykes. Enjoy!_

My Pen

by

GingerRoseProductions

Chapter One: Craving a Coldcut

The stairwell was flooded with mid-day light, the sun streaming in through the massive window, which stretched from the polished floor to the high ceiling, two stories above. The East stairwell ended at the third floor, he would have to make use of the North stairs if he wanted to go higher than that, which he didn't. His destination was the second floor, to drop off some mail he had forgotten this morning, before heading out on his lunch break.

Halfway up the stairs, with the multiple white and manila envelopes tucked under his left arm, he plunged his hand into the pocket of his Dockers, and pulled out his wad of cash, counting the bills to determine where he would go for lunch. In his excitement of spotting a five-dollar bill, while reaching for it with his other hand, he knocked the only pen out of his front breast pocket

"My pen!" Dennis exclaimed, watching it fall down to the step below. Stuffing his money back into his pocket, he leaned down, carefully shuffling his mail so as not to drop it, and had just grasped his pen, as he felt the familiar lurch of panic in this stomach, signalizing his loss of balance, and imminent fall.

His lean body seemed to fall through space in slow motion, the mail which was so carefully organized scattered in midair, and his beloved pen, which had caused the fall, joined the mail in it's ascent towards the sky.

The first step he hit knocked the wind out of him, that he remembered. The rest were simply painful as he tumbled down. About half way down the flight he hit something green and red and soft, and together they fell for what seemed to be eternity.

At last they stilled on the landing, Dennis ending up on top of the yet unknown green object with an oomph, his head buried in green cotton. He hadn't expected his landing to be this soft. Out of the blue, it seemed, he felt something slender and plastic smack the back of his head before clattering onto the floor, within arms reach.

Still too jarred from his fall to move much, he sought out the pen and once more grasped it.

"My pen. . . " he mumbled once more into the green cotton below him.

"Uhhh . . . " the cotton spoke. Slowly Dennis raised his head, his vision blurred, a sharp piercing pain in his left hand, and ache seeping into every part of his body, as he raised himself onto his elbows and looked into the eyes of the girl he had landed on. No, not a girl, he corrected himself, noting that his head had in fact been buried in her bosom. As her pale eyes stared back at him in confusion laced with embarrassment, he realized he had been touching this person, this woman for more than a few moments and had not seen one flash. But how? Not even one little scene. Was it her? Did she have nothing horrible in her past that would set off his curse? Or was it him? Did he just block her somehow? Or had his ability simply gone away?

"Are you all right?" a quiet voice asked from beneath him. Dennis jerked back into the present, and quickly scrambled off her.

"Oh god," he said, quickly stuffing his devious little pen pack into his pocket before grasping the young woman's arm and helping her sit up. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you all right? Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?"

"No, no I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me," the young woman answered as Dennis gently helped her to her feet. She ran a hand through her curly shoulder length hair, attempting to straighten it.

"Oh no, your glasses . . . ." she pointed to the second to last step where a thick bent frame and some shattered glass lay.

"Yeah, I know," Dennis showed her the palm of his left hand where a particularly large shard protruded. "I wont be able to see well enough to get it out. Son of a bitch!" He ran his good hand over his face, berating himself for what a mess he had made.

"Here, let me see," the young woman reached out to touch his hand, but Dennis instinctively jerked away from her. She smiled gently, then slowly cupped the back of his injured hand and brought it closer to her face. She grimaced.

"This looks pretty bad. Maybe you should go to the hospital."

"No!" Dennis yelled, and startled her. "I mean, no. I cant, I cant go to the hospital," he finished in a quieter tone.

"Well then, is there a first aid kit here?"

"Yeah, there's one on every floor."

"Oh, then come with me. My dad is on the third floor, but I have no idea where his office would be. He called this morning and asked me to bring him a lunch," she said, bending down and retreating a brown bag from across the landing.

"What's his name?" Dennis asked.

"Michael Radcliffe."

"Oh yeah, I know where his office is. He gets shit loads of mail. Come on." He led her up the stairs this time without falling, and opened the door on the very last landing. As he weaved in and around the path that lead through the many cubicles, Ivy stared in amazement at the amount of people crammed into such a small space.

The young man stopped in front of an office, of which two walls were made entirely of glass. It was empty.

"I'll just leave this on his desk. Now, where would that first aid kit be?"

* * *

"Ouch!" Dennis jerked his hand out of the young woman's grasp, and shielded it with his other arm. "Christ that hurt!" he exclaimed, clutching his wrist, as if cutting off the blood flow would make the pain ease.

"That was the rubbing alcohol. And I told you it was gonna hurt."

"But I didn't know it was gonna hurt that freaking bad!"

"I'm sorry, but it had to be disinfected. Now, let me see your hand again."

"No, I think I've changed my mind. Fuck the glass. It can just live in there forever." The young woman simply glared at him before turning her attention to the first aid kit, which sat next to her on the bathroom floor. For a few moments she rummaged through it, then finally pulled out a pair of gloves.

"You aren't allergic to latex, are you?"

"No," Dennis answered, still sulking, as she pulled them on. She reached for his hand, and he flinched at her initial touch, not quite used to this new freedom she had granted him. Touch was simply something he just wasn't used to.

"You ready?" she asked, now holding his hand, palm up. Before he could answer, she began to move towards the shard buried deep in his flesh.

"No!" he answered. She sighed, waiting for him to gather the courage, or the balls, to let her do him this favor.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What's your name? I mean, I've known you for almost half an hour, and you're about to dissect my hand, I think I should at least know your name." She smiled gently.

"I'm Ivy, Ivy Radcliffe."

"Dennis Rafkin."

"Nice to meet you. Are you ready yet?"

"I think so," Dennis answered, his face screwed up against the inevitable pain. He felt her hand brush against his fingertips and for once had the chance to marvel at the heat she radiated. Who knew that human beings could be so warm? He felt movement on the palm of his hand, and a twinge of pain when he opened his eyes to see the shard lying on the floor, and Ivy holding gauze to his bleeding wound.

"That wasn't so bad," he said, surprised she had already removed the offending piece of glass.

"No, it wasn't. I told you the alcohol was gonna be the worst of it," Ivy answered as she replaced the bloody gauze with a fresh one and secured it with some tape. As she finished up, taking the latex gloves off, she held Dennis' hand with both of hers, checking to make sure the bandage would stay. He stilled, and looked at her face, for the first time truly taking in her appearance. She had auburn blond hair that fell in loose curls to her shoulders, and fair freckled skin. Her eyes, which now studied her handy work, were a pale greenish blue.

Once she was finished with her inspection she looked up and their eyes met. For a moment the pair simply stared at each other, captivated by the current that surged between them. But the spell was brief, and they both looked away in embarrassment.

"I was going to stop at the coffee shop at the corner on my way home. Would you like to come with me?" Ivy asked, not quite meeting his eyes, as he stared at her in surprise. "If you don't want to-" she continued, taking the look on his face as rejection.

"No!" he interrupted loudly, making her jump. "I mean, no, I would love to! Just let me- Fuck!" He clutched his head with his hands.

"What is it?"

"My lunch break has been over for five minutes already, and my ass is about to get reamed. Son of a bitch," Dennis yelled in frustration. Ivy looked back at him in mild shock. "I'm sorry. It's just, not everyday a beautiful girl fixes my hand then asks me out to lunch with her. And I'm just a little frustrated with my job at the moment. I'm sorry . . ." he finished, in what he felt was a lame.

"It's alright. What time do you get off from work?"

"Six o'clock, usually."

"Well, then. Meet me there at six fifteen?" Ivy asked, smiling. At that, the mysterious man in front of her seemed to perk up, and he smiled back at her, nodding his head yes. "Good. I better let you get back to work. I'll see you later." Ivy got to her feet, and Dennis did the same.

"Thank you."

"No problem. You better go, you're gonna be late, well, later than you already are."

Dennis rushed out of the womans bath room, in his rush clumsily bumping into a female co-worker who merely looked appalled as the young man ran down the hallway, racing the clock.


	2. Tea and Cake or Death!

My Pen

By: GingerRoseProductions

Chapter Two: Tea and Cake or Death!

_A/N: We made it! We finally pumped out chapter two! Go us! We are quite sorry about the delay. Our other story stole a lot of our attention, and then we got into a tight spot, but in the end we sung ourself out of it._

_Oh, and if you happen to know where the title of this chapter comes from, go read our other fic,Blue You, we promise you'll enjoy it!_

_

* * *

_

Ivy sat at a small round table in a quiet cafe, sipping from her French vanilla cappuccino and looking around. It was barely six twenty five, and Dennis had not left his apartment yet. He ran around in his blue plaid boxers, sniffing the arm pits of all his shirts, attempting to distinguish the clean from the dirty. Finally he found one that didn't smell too bad, threw it on, then retrieved a pair of relatively clean jeans.

"Son of a fucking bitch," he cursed, looking at his watch as he grabbed his keys and stormed out the door. He didn't live too far from the cafe, only a couple of blocks. He could probably get there before she left, if he ran.

The bell above the entrance chimed merrily as a haggard and panting young man flung the door open. He stood, looking around the place, over the tops of the customers heads, making use of his considerable height. He spotted the pale young woman with whom he had become aquantied with earlier in the day, and made his way to the table where she sat alone.

"Hi," he said nervously. But his nerves seemed to calm the moment she smiled up at him.

"Hello. I was beginning to think that you weren't gonna show," she teased as he dropped down into the seat across from her.

"Sorry, the boss was being a prick this afternoon. Wouldn't even let me run home and grab a pair of spare glasses."

"What a jerk," Ivy sipped on her drink, noticing his new pair of frames, thicker, more manly. "So, other than that, how was the rest of your day?"

"It was pretty good. I met this amazing girl, who fixed me up and invited me out. First time I've been out in a looong time." He grined at her, noticing a slight blush that crept onto her cheeks as she smiled back at him. "And how was your day?"

"Amazingly similar to yours actually. Funny that. Oh, did you want anything to drink?"

"No," Dennis grinned at her, "no, you should see me with caffinee in my system. I don't sleep for days." Ivy smiled at the already jumpy, nervous man before her.

"So, you and your dad just moved here not too long ago, right?"

"Yeah, we moved here from Maine. Quite a bit of change. Papa built and repaired ships on the coast, he worked mostly with local fishermen and sometimes biologists who came up to study."

"And what about you?"

"Our city wasn't huge, but it wasn't tiny either. I attended a small community college there for two semesters before we moved here, then I transferred to Philly State."

"So that makes you. . ." he paused in thought, attempting to determine her age by what little info she had given him. "Twenty-one?"

"No, no, no. A semester there is only four months, so about half a school year. Some places it is an entire school year, but at Philly State it's four months."

"Ah, so your still a young'in," Dennis teased.

"I'm nineteen. I might be a young'in yet, but I knew enough to fix you up, eh?" she smiled, reaching out for his bandaged hand. He controlled his impulse to jump, to snatch his hand away from her, and instead steadied himself to her soft warm touch. He almost closed his eyes in bliss as her hand held his and she inspected her work.

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty four."

"Ahh, old timer huh?" He smiled broadly, as she retracted her hand from his.

"Yeah yeah." He sighed, putting on a sad face, pouting at the beautiful young woman across from him.

"Aw," Ivy cooed a she reached across the table to stroke his pouty face. As their eyes locked, Dennis covered her tiny hand with his larger one, gently caressing her fingers.

"Aw indeed. You know, I've never met anyone quite like you before. . ." Dennis mustered up the courage and grasped her hand, turned his head, and pressed his lips against her palm. Ivy's face flushed prettily, and she tucked a stray lock of his hair behind his ear before pulling her hand away.

"Thats quite the compliment." She finished her drink, setting the empty cup on the table, then looked him square in the face. "Do you wanna go for a walk?"

"A walk?"

"Yes, the sun sets in," Ivy checked her watch, "about 30 minutes, I know the perfect spot to go and watch it."

"Well then, Miss Radcliffe, lead the way." Ivy plucked a $5 bill from her pocket and left it on the table as she gathered her purse and they left the cafe together.

* * *

The attractive female couple sat on an ornate iron bench on the river front, holding hands and speaking softly to themselves. Their long red and black hair mingling between them, as they leaned in and gently kissed each other softly on the lips.

Dennis and Ivy walked past them, looking awkwardly in the romancing couples direction, and settling on a bench down the way.

"It really is beautiful here," Ivy said, watching as the barges went by.

"Yeah, here it is. Down the way a bit, it gets quite a bit dingier."

"Everywhere has dingy places."

"You should see my apartment. . ." Dennis joked. Ivy laughed, sliding her hand into his, as they sat and enjoyed the sun setting over the now still water.

Dennis looked down at their interlocked hands, such a foreign sight for him, his own flesh, pressed warmly against another's. It was nice. Oh fuck, it was nice. But how long would that last? Once she found out . . . no, it wouldn't last. She'd never stay.

He looked back to her, the warm glow of the scarlet sun dancing in her hair, and over her freckled face, and she smiled at him.

A fit of giggles burst forth from the couple a few benches over.

"Sounds like someone is having a good time over there," Ivy smiled. Dennis tilted his head and looked at her.

"Are you having a good time? With me?" He looked at her, the most innocent expression on his face.

"No," Ivy answered. Dennis' face fell. "No, I'm having a great time, with you." Ivy cupped his face, and lowered her mouth to his. Dennis tensed up, bringing his hands to her arms, but quickly relaxing once her hands slid from his face into his hair. He let his lips meld with hers, running his hands up her arms, and gently stroking her delicate neck.

But they soon broke apart in shock, as one of the lovers burst into song from a few benches down.

"_I see a river. . . flowing for freedom . . ."_

Dennis and Ivy looked at each other, before both getting up and walking away hurriedly, both trying their hardest not to laugh.


End file.
